I’ve been really fucking up.
I’ve missed a couple of med doses in the last couple of days.
I’m talking to people I know I shouldn’t be.
I finally gave in and ate food that is really, really bad for me.
I guess it makes sense, in a way. I’ve been having an “up” in life for several months now. You know how life has ups and downs? I guess it was about time I hit a down.
And I inflicted it upon myself, because of course I did. I could’ve kept climbing but instead I was like, “Nope, success scares the shit out of me, I’m going to eat some fucking pasta alfredo.”
I messed up at a performance last night. It’s honestly not very often that I do that. I was just off my game. I didn’t sing as well. I changed the key of a song wrong.
I’d also had what were likely gluten-contaminated french fries and some goat cheese. Now I’d had a good intention with that. I thought to myself, “I’m going to crave things I tell myself I can’t eat. I have enough calories left in the day for this, so if I let myself have a bit, I won’t crave it anymore.”
I feel like that was smart but now I’m finding that was pretty damn stupid.
Because my cravings went WAY up after that and then, you know, pasta.
And I woke up this morning thinking, “Well, it’s a new day, I’m going to make better choices today and probably feel like shit.”
And then I had more pasta.
I have all of these “What ifs” running through my head.
What if I’m not ready?
What if I’m wrong about what I’m meant to do?
What would happen if I’m actually in a relationship with the right person?
What if people hate me again and won’t hear what I have to say?
What if I walk myself into another traumatic situation?
I sit down with myself and try to answer these questions. I say, “Well, Hana? What if?” But I don’t have any answers. I don’t know what would happen if any of those things were actually true. I don’t know what would happen if I kept going in a positive direction.
I’m just facing a ton of unknowns because that’s part of life.
Life is easiest for me when I self-sabotage because I know where all of that leads. I know exactly where I’m headed. It’s predictable.
It’s the easy way out.
I’m taking the easy way out.
I have got to stop.
I’ve been breaking down a lot.
Or at least, I’ve been wanting to. Last night was the first time I actually collapsed into tears in awhile.
I take a lot of pride in the journey I’ve had with my eating disorder. I’ve gotten to the point where I no longer consider that I have one. I know there are a lot of people that say once you have one, you always have one. I don’t feel that way.
I haven’t binged in over 8 months.
I haven’t eating my allergen foods in an intentionally destructive way in 6.
I can be around all of my trigger foods without having a problem.
And then I was put on a calorie-counting diet.
My nutritionist asked me if that would be okay. I said, “Yes.” I said, “I can handle it.”
I may have been wrong.
I’m struggling with a lot of physical health issues at the moment, but it’s worth it. I’ve been struggling for years, really. I’m finally finding the answers to all of the issues, and that’s great - it just means it’s going to take months of hard fucking work to get better. Harder work than anything I’ve yet put in to my physical wellbeing.
The calorie counting is important because I need to hold to a certain amount of calories and particular portions of foods in order for my blood sugar issues to regulate - a process which will take multiple months.
In the meantime, I’m on a heavy-duty medication that’s also supposed to help, also over the course of several months.
I really did think I would be okay. I thought I’d reached a point where counting calories would be fine.
I was wrong. It turns out that I used to eat way too much for my tiny body, even though I was eating healthily. Unfortunately, my body has gotten used to that amount of calories and I’ve cut down about 1,000 per day.
I’ve been fucking STARVING. I won’t even realize it sometimes until I look at foods that would lead to self-sabotage and think to myself, “My god that looks good.” It’s taken all of my willpower to walk away from my trigger foods.
I. do. not. like. this.
I know it’s something the body will get used to, but I’m worried I won’t be able to sustain it long enough for that to happen. I’m worried I’ll binge first.
And then I think about how amazing it would be to finally reach a healthy weight for my body. To finally obtain a healthy metabolism. And I just kind of crumble.
I keep my head high on the outside, though. I’m trying the whole “fake it till you make it” thing.
But I’ve taken it too far. I’ve filled all of my time to the point where I’m going crazy. It’s like I’ll do anything not to think about food or when I next need to eat. My body hurts and I’m sabotaging myself by scheduling commitments that I just won’t be able to make it to. I feel pretty alone and it’s hard to talk to the people I love about it because some of them just don’t seem to get it.
It’s taking everything I have to keep it together.
And the worst thing is that I feel like I have an eating disorder again.
Like someone who’s never had one wouldn’t struggle like this.
Like I’m not strong enough to make the decision not to have one.
It feels like I’m back where I used to be.
Anonymous said: Could you send some love and support to mymosaicrecovery she's been having a hard time lately and has almost relapsed
Of course. I would be happy to. How can I find her? I searched mymosaicrecovery and didn’t come up with a result.
Living with men has its pros and cons (love you, roomies!).
They are a lot more chill than I think a l’il lady roommate would be. It’s easier to agree on shit. They’re like, “Dude, we want to put up this Coors Light sign in the middle of the living room,” and I’m like, “K, if I can put pretty rocks and scented things in the bathroom,” and they’re like, “K.”
It’s pretty simple.
10 months ago, I never would have thought I’d live with guys.
For the past few years, I haven’t even really had guy friends because I’d sleep with all of them. Guys stop being your friend when you start fucking, I don’t care what all the magazines or books or people say. This whole “friends with benefits” business? Not for me, let me tell you.
One of the ways I reacted to rape was via promiscuity. So I’ve fucked a lot of people.
I’m not ashamed.
I was for a long, long time.
It actually took me until last night to realize that I’m not anymore, though I don’t know when the transition actually happened.
I think living with the opposite gender has had something to do with it. All of their friends are guys. Sometime between moving in with them and now, I’ve found that my friends have casually transitioned from a primarily-female set of besties to a male-dominant group of musketeers (Muskedoods, they call themselves. Oops. Maybe I’m not supposed to publicly admit that).
I’m pretty grateful. I like being so comfortable now, with myself and with the opposite sex. I like living with chill people and that I’m in control of splitting the grocery receipts, because I’m a control freak and they just let me do my thing.
And then there are the cons.
They’re blunt, and that’s cool. It’s a dude thing, I guess. It works for them.
I’m pretty sensitive, though.
I didn’t realize how much it bothered me until yesterday.
I found myself asking my mom if I’m spoiled and if I always have been.
I found myself hating myself for having grown up well.
I found myself hating myself for wanting so much out of life.
I found myself hating myself for being bothered by little things.
I found myself wanting to throw up from the hurt of being accused of being self-centered and selfish.
And then I found myself realizing that I just don’t care.
Last night was when I realized that all of those things are true.
There have been times when I’ve gotten so much from coming from a well-off family and I haven’t realized it. I am someone who always wants so much out of life, no matter what (and I don’t think that’s a bad thing!). I get bothered by really little things sometimes and I’m not really sure why. Sometimes I’m pretty damn self-centered and selfish and my world totally revolves around me.
And that’s all okay.
1.) Because my world is always going to revolve around me. I am the only person who has to live with myself. I am the only person who needs to figure out day after day what my body needs to fuel itself, what my heart needs to mend and stay mended, what my soul needs to thrive, what my values are. I’m allowed to focus on me sometimes, and if I overdo it, all I can do is come back and say, “I’m sorry, I needed to take some time for me, and now I’m here for you.”
2.) Because I actually fucking love myself.
This was like, a ridiculously blinding realization.
I’ve loved myself for a long time now. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be able to write a blog about the stories of things I’ve been through, and I wouldn’t be able to help other people through their ups and downs and lefts and rights.
But there’s still been so much doubt and hatred inside. And all of the sudden, I was just like, wait - I’m totally selfish sometimes. That’s totally a flaw.
And I loved it.
I realized that self-acceptance comes when one embraces their entirety, their whole, their being. Yes, it’s important to want to be better and keep moving forward and learn more and change and grow. But you also need to love where you are right here, right now.
I may have gotten a lot in life that some people never get, and I also got my fair share of shit, and I also give back because I have the resources to do that.
I’m not going to try to change who I am, because why would I? I love myself, and change will happen naturally over time as I learn and believe and love and find and grow and create and live.
If I tried to change myself into a perfect specimen, I’d never get anywhere. If I worked so, so hard to completely replace all selfishness, I think I’d become kind of introverted and lose a lot of my confidence. I’d stop living for me and always live for other people! Every quality has blessing and curse aspects to it.
Love your qualities. Love your traits. Love you.
Anonymous said: Thank you for sharing your vulnerable heart. You are not fragile. I don't like that word. I like vulnerable. Fragile implies breaking into pieces and you are strong. I hope that you continue to heal and to love that little girl inside you. Self love. I know. And it works.
Thank you <3. I feel very fragile sometimes, and very vulnerable. I also know I’m strong. I agree with self-love, I think it’s the most important piece of getting oneself through obstacles - without it, I know I, at least, kept sabotaging myself and couldn’t really move forward with my life. Once I found self-love, I was able to open up this vulnerability and share it, and that’s an incredibly powerful thing. I’m glad that self-love is something you’ve found, too. <3
Anonymous said: I know what you mean about it making you not productive at all. I actually don't really like smoking it at all and only use a vaporizer. I find that if I only take a puff or two its not too much and it doesn't affect my voice for singing very much.
Wow so I just got notified about this post and I’m not sure why, I’m sorry about that.
I think everybody has their different levels of tolerance for weed, drinking, etc. It probably also depends on the strength and kind of marijuana; it turns out the kinds I was exposed to in the past were probably laced with other things that would lead to being pretty unproductive! One or two puffs sounds like it wouldn’t affect the vocal chords, at least in the short term, and I’ve heard vaporizers also make it easier to inhale, though I haven’t personally tried one. While I don’t see myself trying it anytime soon, I like to hear what works for other people; it’s always good to have things to try safely. And I’m glad that works for you. (:
Page 1 of 18